First

by K. C. Wells

  “So, will Ben be going out Saturday night?”

  Tommy paused in the middle of packing his overnight bag and tilted his head. “Why’d you wanna know? You’re gonna be God knows where.” There was the teensiest pout that was just adorable.

  “Because I have something planned for Saturday, and it would be best if you had the apartment to yourself. Locked door, no Ben likely to show up….” Mike grinned. “Think you can arrange that?”

  Tommy’s eyes glinted. “Yeah, that’s doable. Wanna tell me what you got in mind?”

  “Nope.” Mike chuckled to see Tommy’s expression of consternation. “You’ll just have to wait ’n’ see. But there is one thing I need to know. You’ve got a laptop, right?” Tommy nodded. “Does it have Skype?”

  “No, but I can always download it. Why?” Tommy’s eyes lit up. “We gonna chat via Skype while you’re away?” He grinned. “I’d really like that.”

  Mike opened the drawer in his bedside cabinet and withdrew the gift-wrapped item. “Take this with you. You can’t open it, mind. Not until we’re Skyping next Saturday, okay?” He speared Tommy with a keen glance. “You promise? No peeking?”

  Tommy laughed. “How old am I, six? Yeah, I promise.” He packed the gift carefully into his bag and then moved to stand in front of Mike. “Just so’s you know? In the spirit of sharin’ how I’m feelin’, like you asked?” He placed his hands on Mike’s shoulders and looked him square in the face. “I’m gonna miss you next weekend.” The words were uttered softly. He leaned forward and kissed Mike on the mouth, his hands looping around Mike’s neck and drawing him closer.

  Mike wrapped his arms around Tommy’s firm torso and held him while they kissed, slowly, just a brushing of lips at first, but soon they were feeding soft moans into each other’s mouths, hands moving restlessly over backs, arms, shoulders.

  “Think we got time to make out a little before you have to go?” Mike murmured against his mouth, stroking down his back to cup that round ass. Tommy didn’t reply, but Mike took his groan and slow nod to be answer enough.

  The gentle tapping at his door dispelled the pleasant memory. Mike walked across and opened it to find Jack standing there, dressed in jeans and a dark blue T-shirt that showed off his ripped body and tattooed arms. The tattoo that curled around his collarbones was just visible above the neckline of his T-shirt.

  “Hey.” Jack gave him a half smile. He ran his hand through the short layers of hair on top of his head. “I was waiting for you to arrive.” He glanced to his right down the hallway toward the kitchen. Mike could hear Nico laughing and chuckles from the two younger men. “Can I come in?” There was a jumpiness to him that was new.

  “Sure.” Mike stepped aside and let Jack into the room, closing the door behind him. He watched his former lover walk across the room to the window, shoulders hunched forward, his gait lacking his usual fluid grace. Mike frowned. “What have you done to yourself?”

  Jack turned, eyebrows lifted. “Damn, that was quick.” His smile widened. “I forgot how much you see.”

  Mike was having none of it. He took a deep breath, as if that would help to quell the anger and hurt welling up inside him. Fat chance.

  “What the fuck, Jack?” He clenched his hands at his sides, staring at his old friend, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe.

  Jack paled. “Mike?” He swallowed hard.

  “Fucking bareback? What the fuck are you thinking of?” Mike’s heart hammered so strongly, it caused him pain.

  “Oh God. You know.” Jack reached out for the plastic chair by the window and crumpled into it. “I shoulda known you’d get to hear about it.” He gripped the arms of the chair, his knuckles white.

  “Oh yeah, good news sure travels fast in this industry,” Mike said with a snarl. “Far more important to me, however, is why I got to hear about it from William fucking Marks and not from you!” He couldn’t keep a lid on all the emotion that bubbled up to the surface. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. After everything we talked about, our agreements….”

  “Mike, please, hear me out,” Jack pleaded, his face now white. “I can explain.”

  “We always talked about this, damn it!” Mike yelled. “Have you given a thought to the ramifications for your costars? ’Cause I’m thinking about them right now, not you, you selfish bastard. Damn it, you’re supposed to care about people! The Jack I knew cared. He wouldn’t risk the people he filmed with, curled up with, loved….” Mike struggled to draw a breath, his pulse speeding, heartbeat pounding.

  Jack rose slowly to his feet, his breathing rapid, his expression pinched. “I don’t have to listen to this.” He walked stiffly to the door without a backward glance at Mike and shut the door after him.

  Mike stared at the wooden door, the bile rising in his throat. He swallowed, fighting to compose himself.

  Well, that could’ve been handled better.

  He dropped down onto the mattress and lay on his back, gazing at the ceiling. He’d had no idea just how much Jack’s decision had affected him. Little by little his anger dissipated, leaving him with an ache in his chest and a heaviness in his limbs.

  I overreacted, plain and simple. Jack didn’t deserve that much venom, not after all their years together. What the fuck came over me? Maybe it was a good thing he and Jack weren’t shooting a scene together. Then it occurred to him that he hadn’t exactly been quiet. The others would’ve heard everything. Talk about awkward.

  He sat up and picked up the script from beside him. Not that he was in any mood to read it, but it was something to focus on. Anything to stop seeing Jack’s ashen face in his head. He stared at the script, trying to take it all in, but the words just danced on the page, making no sense at all. When the call came for dinner, he abandoned the sheaf of papers with a sigh and got up from the bed. In the bathroom, he splashed cold water on his face and then dried it. He gazed at his reflection in the cool light above the washbasin, not in the least bit hungry.

  With a sigh he straightened, flicked off the light, and headed down the hall into the brightly lit kitchen.

  Dinner was… uncomfortable. Jack was silent, picking at the lasagna Nico had prepared. The two young men kept glancing at each other, their foreheads furrowed, faces unsmiling. Pete tried to make conversation but gave up after his jokes and funny stories fell on stony ground. It was a relief when the meal ended and everyone disappeared into their rooms for the rest of the evening, with the exception of Jesse and Kyler, who went outside to shoot some hoops, the yard lit by an outdoor light. Nico collected the plates and the leftover lasagna, clearly unhappy.

  Mike retreated to his room and spent an hour or so rereading the script. He knew from the last shoot with this studio that the emphasis would be on the reactions of the actors to each other, their emotions and expressions, rather than focusing the camera on what went where. He hardly noticed the passage of time. When he was ready to call it a day, he waited his turn for the bathroom he shared with Nico to be empty, and then Mike slipped in for a wash before bed. His shower would wait until the morning, when he would go through his preshoot routines. Once back in the bedroom, he slid under the blankets and switched off the light. Little noise intruded from the outside world. Mike closed his eyes and worked on switching off his brain, but Jack was there, that white-faced stare, the pain in those brown eyes.

  Let it go, he told himself. Just… let it go.

  He turned his thoughts to Tommy. Damn, but it felt like he was a million miles away right then. Mike comforted himself with the anticipation of seeing his young lover the following night, even if it would only be via Skype. It was better than nothing. He’d hear that lovely Georgian drawl, see that sweet face. It wasn’t long before Mike was drifting off to sleep, warm and cozy….

  Only to awaken when the blankets lifted and a smooth, naked male form pressed up against him—an unmistakably horny male.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “WHAT THE fuck?” Mike shifted across the mattress a
nd had the lamp switched on within seconds. He blinked in the bright light at Kyler, who lay beside him, frozen and wide-eyed. Mike expelled his tension in a long push of air. “Kyler, what are you doing?”

  The young man gave a nervous laugh. “I-I’d have thought that was obvious.”

  Mike sighed. “I get to fuck you tomorrow.” He glanced at his watch and shook his head. “Today,” he corrected. “Is that not enough?” He gave Kyler a hard stare.

  Kyler bit his lip. “I just wanted… it’ll be different on set… I thought….”

  Mike snorted. “I doubt you were thinking at all, except with your dick.” One look at Kyler’s ashen face reined in his frustration. God, the kid had to be barely legal. Mike let out another patient sigh. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.” Kyler was watching him so carefully, his teeth working that full lower lip.

  “How many scenes have you filmed so far? Not just with TopMen—what’s your all time total?”

  There was a moment’s silence while Kyler stared at him, those eyes still wide. Mike could see the teeth marks in his lip. “This… this is my first,” he admitted at last.

  Mike nodded, his suspicions confirmed. He sat up cross-legged under the blankets, forearms resting on his thighs. “Then you need to listen to what I’m about to say, okay? And remember it.”

  Kyler gave a quick, nervous nod. Mike indicated Kyler in the bed.

  “This is unprofessional. I don’t know if you’ve gotten the impression that in the porn industry, everybody sleeps with everybody else, but it’s not true. This is the start of what you probably hope will be a successful career. You’re gonna be filming with the same costars for a lot of the time, and no, it is not professional to be sleeping around.”

  Kyler swallowed. “Really?”

  Mike nodded. “These are guys who take intimacy off camera as seriously as they take it on camera. And these guys are only human. Here’s a for instance. Say you got your wish and spent the night with me. Next morning, Jesse gets to hear about it. Jesse wonders why you wanted to sleep with me and not him. Jesse wants to know why he wasn’t good enough to get to share your bed. You understanding this, kid? Feelings. Get. Hurt.” He speared Kyler with an intense gaze.

  Kyler squirmed. “I got it,” he said quietly.

  “Good.” Mike pulled back the blankets to reveal Kyler’s naked form. “Go back to your own bed, Kyler, ’cause nothing’s gonna happen here, okay?”

  He watched as the young man climbed off the mattress and padded out of the room without a backward glance. Great, now there’ll be an atmosphere on set. He shuffled down under the blankets and switched off the lamp. He supposed he could have found Kyler’s attentions flattering, but all he could think of was yet another twink who wanted to be fucked by Scott Masters. They didn’t want Mike, they wanted his alter ego.

  It took him a while to find that warm, fuzzy state again, but once he’d found it, Mike slipped into it like putting on a comfortable sweater and let it cling to him, distancing him from the tension and frustrations of the day. He was dimly aware of his bedroom door opening and closing, the soft footfall across the floor, the dip of the mattress as someone climbed into his bed again….

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Kyler,” he began wearily, reaching for the lamp switch. “I thought we’d—” The words died in his throat when he saw Jack lying beside him.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” Jack said simply. He met Mike’s gaze, his face grave. “We need to talk.”

  Mike stared at him, his gut clenching. He’d known it was coming, knew it couldn’t be avoided, but there in the quiet of his room, the prospect tightened his chest and quickened his breathing. “Okay,” he said with a nod.

  “Only….” Jack indicated the lamp with a flick of his head. “Can we turn the light off?” He swallowed. “I’d rather we talked in the dark, if you don’t mind.”

  His request sent Mike’s heart sinking. He could only guess at the pain Jack was experiencing—pain for which he had to take some of the blame. “Sure thing.” He flicked off the lamp and lay down, keeping a little distance between them. For a moment the silence was overwhelming. This was his friend, his former lover, and yet Mike had never felt so far apart from Jack.

  How the hell do I start this? The last thing he wanted to do was to jump down Jack’s throat—again.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call you.” Jack’s whisper crept out of the darkness. “I wanted to—God, how I wanted to—but the time never seemed right. I meant to call you six months ago when I got injured.”

  Mike’s stomach churned. “What? What happened?” His breathing quickened. “Christ, Jack, you should’ve called me.” The awkwardness he’d felt vanished in a rush of concern for his ex. He shifted closer, feeling for him. His hand found Jack’s shoulder, and he gave it a light squeeze. “Hey. It’s okay. You’re here now, and we’re talking, right?” He realized Jack had the right idea; the darkness was a comfort. “Talk to me, Jack.” A moment’s silence and then firm fingers found his, their hands intertwined. The contact felt good, reassuring.

  Jack sighed. “About a year ago, I got to thinking that I was done with the industry. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a good run, a pretty long career, but yeah, my star is definitely on the wane. More than once I’ve considered retiring.”

  Mike could deal with that. “Yeah, I know that feeling.”

  “You should—you’ve been in this game longer than me.”

  Mike pushed out a low growl, no real menace in it, but something he knew would bring an unseen smile to Jack’s lips. He waited for his friend to continue.

  “But then something happened. About six months ago, I got injured in a wrestling porn scene, and after that, getting regular work proved more and more difficult.”

  Mike’s stomach clenched at the idea of Jack injured. “Was it bad?”

  He felt rather than saw Jack’s shrug. “I saw the physical therapists, the chiropractors, and that was made easier with the settlement from the company. They were really awesome about it. Little by little, things improved, and although it was harder to pay the bills, I scraped by. Then… I met someone.” His voice brimmed with feeling. “Luca is… pretty special.”

  Mike heard the unspoken words. “I can tell,” he said softly. Part of him was glad. Jack had spent so much time alone in recent years. It had hurt Mike just to see him every time he made the trek across the country to San Francisco where Jack lived. The nights he’d lain in bed with Jack in his arms, cradling him, telling him there was someone out there who was perfect for him—someone who would love everything about him. And then there were the long nights when Jack had wept in his arms, when another relationship failed because the newest love interest could not deal with Jack being HIV positive.

  Kevin knew about Jack. Each time Mike told the bar staff that he was off to San Francisco, he’d joke that Mike was going to see his “West Coast hubby.” Mike would smile to himself at that. Throughout his whole career, all his relationships, there had always been Jack in the background. It had been rare for Mike to find a partner who’d understood that he wasn’t about to give up his relationship with Jack. There were a few friends that he curled up with on a regular basis, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t commit to one guy, like he did with Dirk. When the right guy came along—even when he thought it was the right guy—he was committed.

  A thought struck him. When was the last time he’d curled up with one of his close friends? There’d been no one since Dino, back at the end of September.

  Jack let out another soft sigh, bringing Mike back into the moment. “Luca lives in Seattle, and we’d been together barely two months when we started talking about moving in together—me moving there. Thing was, I did the math and realized how much the move would cost me. So when Rock Hard Men got in contact, wanting to run this bareback company idea past me, I jumped at the chance.” He fell silent for a moment. “God, the number of times I had the phone in my hand, about to call you to ask your opinion.�
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  “You could’ve called me, y’know.” Mike still couldn’t believe Jack had taken such a leap without speaking to him. Abandoning his principles like that….

  “Yeah?” Jack removed his hand from Mike’s and shifted, until Mike could feel the heat radiating from Jack’s body. “And what would you have said, Mike?” He could feel Jack’s breath on his face.

  Mike considered the question carefully. He’d really let it rip earlier, and he didn’t want to hurt Jack again. “I would have told you that it wasn’t something I could ever do, but that if you felt like it was what you needed to do, and if you wanted to do it, then—” He swallowed. “—I’d have said do it, and do it well. And that I’d still love you.”

  Silence. “Oh, Mike.”

  A large yet gentle hand found Mike’s face. Jack’s breath was warm as he moved closer to take Mike’s mouth in a lingering kiss. Mike closed his eyes and lost himself in the memories evoked by that sweet embrace.

  But that’s just it—memories. That was the past, not now. It doesn’t belong here in the present, not when I have Tommy.

  The realization sent a flush of adrenaline tingling throughout his body. Tommy. He had Tommy, who was back in Atlanta, waiting for Mike to call him later that day, and here was Mike, kissing Jack….

  When there were things that still needed to be said. Important things.

  Mike took hold of Jack’s hand and gently pulled it away from his face, breaking their kiss. “Enough about you. Enough about me. There’s stuff we have to discuss.” He took a deep breath. “Tell me you’re looking out for your scene partners, Jack. Tell me you take goddamn Truvada every single fucking day. Tell me you’re at least looking for some sign that they’re on PrEP, and that you’re being careful.”

  There was that overwhelming silence, and suddenly Mike had to see Jack’s face. He switched on the lamp and stared at his ex, blinking in the light. “We made promises to each other, babe,” Mike said at last. “Remember? We promised that wherever we were, whomever we were filming with, we would be the person on set who was taking care of everyone, making sure everyone was safe. ’Cause we knew we couldn’t rely on the studios to do it for us.”